If terrorists kill me, I don't know what the meaning of my life or my death will have been, but I won't have lived and died just so you can pound your chest and try to make all the world believe that no one hates my killers more than you do, that no one grieves for me more than you do.

I think I now understand why right-wingers were so exercised about what they perceived as fake grief and fake righteous indignation during the recent fighting in Lebanon: It was pure projection on their part. For five years, they've been wallowing in fake grief and fake righteous indignation. They assumed every show of anger and tears they saw on a pile of rubble in Lebanon was as phony as their own displays of anger and tears since fall 2001.

I'm also reminded of one of the key figures in a pre-9/11 news event, Marisleysis Gonzalez. She thought the way you showed love, the way you showed that you deserved to be a custodian, was to rush before the public and weep with rage. Right-wingers have done the same thing in trying to become the custodians of 9/11 -- but if terrorists ever get me, they'd better not try it in my case.